“peaceful courier of the night!” All the hurrahs, carried upward
upon the sonorous waves of the immense acoustic tube, arrived with
the sound of thunder at its mouth; and the multitude ranged round
Stones Hill heartily united their shouts with those of the ten
revelers hidden from view at the bottom of the gigantic Columbiad.
J. T. Maston was no longer master of himself. Whether he
shouted or gesticulated, ate or drank most, would be a difficult
matter to determine. At all events, he would not have given his
place up for an empire, “not even if the cannon– loaded,
primed, and fired at that very moment–were to blow him in
pieces into the planetary world.”
CHAPTER XVII
A TELEGRAPHIC DISPATCH
The great works undertaken by the Gun Club had now virtually
come to an end; and two months still remained before the day for
the discharge of the shot to the moon. To the general impatience
these two months appeared as long as years! Hitherto the smallest
details of the operation had been daily chronicled by the journals,
which the public devoured with eager eyes.
Just at this moment a circumstance, the most unexpected, the
most extraordinary and incredible, occurred to rouse afresh
their panting spirits, and to throw every mind into a state of
the most violent excitement.
One day, the 30th of September, at 3:47 P.M., a telegram,
transmitted by cable from Valentia (Ireland) to Newfoundland and
the American Mainland, arrived at the address of President Barbicane.
The president tore open the envelope, read the dispatch, and,
despite his remarkable powers of self-control, his lips turned
pale and his eyes grew dim, on reading the twenty words of
this telegram.
Here is the text of the dispatch, which figures now in the
archives of the Gun Club:
FRANCE, PARIS,
30 September, 4 A.M.
Barbicane, Tampa Town, Florida, United States.
Substitute for your spherical shell a cylindro-conical projectile.
I shall go inside. Shall arrive by steamer Atlanta.
MICHEL ARDAN.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE PASSENGER OF THE ATLANTA
If this astounding news, instead of flying through the electric
wires, had simply arrived by post in the ordinary sealed envelope,
Barbicane would not have hesitated a moment. He would have held
his tongue about it, both as a measure of prudence, and in order
not to have to reconsider his plans. This telegram might be a
cover for some jest, especially as it came from a Frenchman.
What human being would ever have conceived the idea of such
a journey? and, if such a person really existed, he must be an
idiot, whom one would shut up in a lunatic ward, rather than
within the walls of the projectile.
The contents of the dispatch, however, speedily became known;
for the telegraphic officials possessed but little discretion,
and Michel Ardan’s proposition ran at once throughout the
several States of the Union. Barbicane, had, therefore, no
further motives for keeping silence. Consequently, he called
together such of his colleagues as were at the moment in Tampa
Town, and without any expression of his own opinions simply read
to them the laconic text itself. It was received with every
possible variety of expressions of doubt, incredulity, and
derision from every one, with the exception of J. T. Maston, who
exclaimed, “It is a grand idea, however!”
When Barbicane originally proposed to send a shot to the moon
every one looked upon the enterprise as simple and practicable
enough– a mere question of gunnery; but when a person,
professing to be a reasonable being, offered to take passage
within the projectile, the whole thing became a farce, or, in
plainer language a humbug.
One question, however, remained. Did such a being exist?
This telegram flashed across the depths of the Atlantic, the
designation of the vessel on board which he was to take his
passage, the date assigned for his speedy arrival, all combined
to impart a certain character of reality to the proposal.
They must get some clearer notion of the matter. Scattered groups
of inquirers at length condensed themselves into a compact crowd,
which made straight for the residence of President Barbicane.
That worthy individual was keeping quiet with the intention of
watching events as they arose. But he had forgotten to take